A Professional Monster
by Hahren Cassandra
Summary: His name is John Marcone, the Gentleman and Baron of Chicago. He's many things, but above all else a professional monster. And monsters aren't supposed to have happy endings. John's never been one to follow the rules though. Marcone/OC.
1. Chapter 1

A/N : After falling in love with the Dresden Files, I decided to write a short behind the scenes bit for one of my favorite characters, Johnny Marcone. Thought it would be fun to take a peek into the character when he isn't dealing with supernatural baddies and Harry.

Characters: Gentleman Johnny Marcone, Hendricks, Harry Dresden (mentioned), OFCs, and OMC

A Professional Monster

The girl was found in her bathroom. The door was locked and the mirrors still covered in steam when the police found her. Her roommate, another dancer, had called the police when she couldn't get the door open. The police found her a tub full of blood and an empty bottle of sleeping pills on the floor beside her. After taking a handful of pills, she had sliced her wrists, a quick and efficient manner of suicide. She probably barely felt anything as she passed. At least, that was what John thought.

The girl, Camille (likely not her real name), had been an exotic dancer at one of the clubs he owned. A pretty little thing that had been gaining popularity among some of the club's regulars. The manager had even been thinking of giving her a pay bump. John didn't know her personally, but the manager felt he should be informed before it leaked to the papers. It wouldn't due to be directly connected to a dead stripper even as her file sat on his desk. By tomorrow morning, a whole new backstory would be laid out for the coroner and any family she might still have. They might even be able to make it look like an accident. Something more dignified than this sad end. Everyone deserved a little dignity.

Hendricks and the manager were talking with the officer now, the sergeant who was willing to look the other way on several previous cases, likely making sure that the report passed his desk first before being handed over to the captain of his precinct. Hendricks had tried to talk him out of coming to the scene. He was becoming too widely recognized in the world of legitimate business to be seen at the home of one of his employees who had worked the seedier side. Normally, he'd listen to Nathan, the man had a genius level IQ and had saved his ass more times than he dared admit. But not today. Something about this young woman's death pulled him here. Maybe it was her age? She had only been twenty. No, that wasn't it, he'd seen younger people die without flinching.

John slipped into the bathroom. The room was empty now, the coroner had gone to get his assistant and a stretcher. The girl was still in the tub, covered up to her collarbones in bloody, congealing fluid. She was so pale and blue it made her look even younger. Her long dark hair was hanging out of the tub, blessedly clean in comparison. Her eyes were half closed and empty, the dark brown hue almost black in the fluorescent lighting. He felt like he should close those eyes, give her that last measure of peace.

"Boss" Hendricks was standing behind him now, "we should go." John nodded, fighting the urge to give that final rite. The coroner would likely do that before they moved her to the morgue. Besides, as far as the paperwork was concerned, she wasn't his problem anymore.

"Is everything taken care off, Mr. Hendricks?" Nathan handed him a manila folder, "Jennifer Lance, secretary for a struggling law firm and a history of severe clinical depression, this is quite thorough." A whole life created on paper. "I assume the sergeant has a copy as well?"

"And the coroner." The two silently leave the shabby apartment building and leave in a sleek, but non-descript black Cadillac. Nathan doesn't ask where he wants to go. He doesn't need to. The drive to John's penthouse is quiet, only interrupted by the sound of John flipping through the file.

John thinks about the young woman and what might have driven her to end her own life. Humans are many things, but predictable is not always one of them. People may follow patterns and routines for years and even decades, but can stop in an instant. They got derailed and never found their way back. Maybe it was a bad relationship, or drugs, or mental illness, or a combination thereof. Or maybe it was none of these things. Maybe she just wanted an escape from her existence. Maybe she looked one too many times in the mirror with disgust and decided she couldn't endure it anymore. Nathan probably has a philosophical opinion or three on the matter. Maybe something he can add to that never ending thesis of his.

Nathan drops him off with a friendly good night and says he'll pick him up at 7 tomorrow for the meeting with the contractors from New York. Business as usual.

As the elevator opens into the bottom floor of his two level penthouse suite, the warm smell of grilled vegetables wafts over to greet him. It would seem a home cooked meal is on the menu tonight. John sheds his coat and removes his tie as he heads into the kitchen. It is currently being invaded by a short woman and her spatula. She has her back turned and is busy tossing some salad. She has no idea a deadly predator is behind her. Not until it is far too late.

John smiles, like a hungry jungle cat, and creeps up to wrap his arms around her in a tight embrace. She squeaks and nearly drops the bowl of fresh leafy greens she was fixing. She relaxes against him as he presses a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth in apology.

"Mi dispiace mia carissima. Ti ho spaventato?" She twists in his arms as she turns to face him.

"No, non realmente." She leans up to kiss him fully and properly. He can't help but sigh in contentment when their lips meet. How does she do that? Just condense the world down to their apartment and help lock everything nasty and dark behind their threshold. He's certain Nathan would give six months wages to know. "Stai bene, Vanni?"

"Sì, è stata una lunga giornata." She gives a small smile and returns to her cooking. "e tu, Nadia?" They speak both Italian and English in the home, though Nadia sometimes has difficulty understanding him if he speaks too fast. Still, she has improved greatly over the last few years.

"Busy, it's flu season, so everyone is lining up to get their shot. Oh, and there's talk off the mayor coming by to visit the children's hospital. Is it true that he's a bit….eccentric?" John can barely contain his laughter at the image of a loud, obnoxious, non-censored, Emmanuel visiting children for a photo-op. Well, at the very least, it would probably make some of the kids laugh.

"I do believe that would be one way to describe him." Nadia shakes her head, "just don't ask him his opinion on anything. He will tell you, in true sailor fashion." It is looking at her from behind he begins to realize why the young girl's death has troubled him so. Camille, or whatever her true name was, looked similar to Nadia in the sense that both were that old Renaissance beauty with high cheekbones and delicate angles. Even their hair was similar, though Nadia's was several shades lighter than Camille's near black. It also brought about the echo of old nightmares, of coming home to find Nadia dead or gone. Ones that still kept him awake at times. Not that he would ever tell anyone. Gentleman Johnny couldn't afford to be seen as weak. Gentleman Johnny ruled the underworld of Chicago with an iron fist, controlling the darker elements that human nature often fell prey to. Gentleman Johnny, Baron of Chicago, kept the supernatural from devouring the innocent. He was the tiger with knives for claws and steel in his spine.

But that person didn't exist in this space. Not for the next few hours anyway. Instead, he could let go and be Giovanni. And Giovanni did have a weakness, her name was Nadia Matveenko. Amabile, amabile, Nadia. Hendricks had been telling him for years that she was liability, something his enemies could use a leverage against him. Nathan may like her, may even be fond of her, but if it came to protecting Chicago and it's liege lord, he wouldn't hesitate to act. If it came to that, John wasn't sure what he would do. Allow Nathan to carry out his duty or put a bullet through the man's skull for attempting to hurt his woman, he honestly couldn't say. He cared for both of them, two of the only people in this world who knew who he was and could still look him in the eyes without fear. Nathan, Gard, Nadia, Tommy once upon a time, and the wizard Harry Dresden. All of them acting as an anchor in some capacity. Without them, he wasn't certain he could keep the monster in control. Soft, delicate chains that kept the hungry beast from devouring the world. Or perhaps he had been reading too much Norse mythology again.

"Dinner's ready in fifteen," Nadia hasn't noticed him drifting off in his dark thoughts. He prefers it that way. It makes him doubly glad she's a mundane like him, no chance of soul gazing. He doesn't doubt her soul would be beautiful and full of light, something like Dresden's fiery white knight soul. John would love to see the soul behind those dark blue eyes, but he doesn't want her to see his. It's likely damaged and soiled, covered in layers of dirt and filth and blood. Something that would send a sane human being running in the other direction. No matter how much they may love him, they wouldn't stay after seeing that.

Dinner is a simple affair, nothing fancy, but the effort behind it makes it taste better than anything from one of Chicago's many fine establishments. Gard has told him about magic being based on intention, maybe the same applies to cooking. Something worth exploring at a later date. For right now, he's going to enjoy the meal and the company. They speak a little of their day, though he carefully leaves out certain parts, and the unseasonably warm weather. Other things, unimportant, trivial things that matter all the more because she smiles and laughs with him.

Later, the two of them are lying in bed. They've whispered their good nights and started to drift off to sleep, Nadia is already asleep by the time her head hits the pillow. Her shift starts early tomorrow, likely she'll be gone before he wakes. Sleep evades John though, as much as he hates to admit it, the girl is keeping him awake. Not her as a person, but what she represented. The underlying darkness that festers beneath the surface of his world. He's seen it take control of people, turn them into monsters running around in human skin. It eats them alive and spits them out without any ounce of tenderness. Some people fight it with every inch, refusing to let it get inside. They often end up checking out early. Whether by their own hands or someone else's. The darkness has burrowed it's way inside him and taken up a section of his being. It's kept in check for now, but a constant reminder of the professional monster he is.

In the stories, heroes like Harry Dresden or his Knight friend are supposed to be the ones with the happy endings. The monsters, professional or otherwise, are not. In fairytale logic, he's supposed to be miserable and alone and possibly with a huntsman's axe in his belly. Well, John has never been one to adhere strictly to tradition. Those Grimm brothers and Mr. Anderson can go jump into the lake for all he cares.

He's not a hero, but he'll make his own ending. And if his luck continues to hold, he'll won't do it alone. After all, the tiger may have the raw brute strength to conquer the jungle, but it is the delicate hand of the maiden who soothes away the savagery and brings balance. With this last thought, he turns to curl around the woman sleeping next to him. She wakes briefly as he does this, clasping his hand, twining her much smaller fingers with his, and bringing it to rest over her heart. The steady thrum that tells him all is well. Out of habit, he counts the beats like sheep, one, two, three, fou…

FIN.

Translations

Mi dispiace mia carissima. Ti ho spaventato – I'm sorry my dear. Did I scare you?

No, non realmente – No, not really

Stai bene – Are you alright / well

Sì, è stata una lunga giornata – Yes, it has been a long day

E tu – And you

Amabile – sweet (as in friendly, not taste)


	2. Chapter 2 A Knight's Work

A/N: Another Marcone/OC short. Written for Valentines day. Taking prompts to continue this series of shorts if anyone is interested.

A Knight's Work

A glance at his Blackberry tells him he late. Very, very late. The negotiations with the Winter Court took much longer than he had expected. It was supposed to take no longer than an hour, maybe two. He had learned that several teenagers had gone missing over the last few weeks and that didn't sit well with him. He had a strong rule about children and he expected that the Sidhe would respect that as he now held the title of Baron. But, being capricious creatures, they clearly had decided it was alright to go behind his back and steal children.

It was Harry Dresden that had alerted him to the situation. In typical Dresden fashion of course. Which involved destroying several pieces of technology, including his laptop, Hendrick's cellphone, and the elevator. The wizard did have the politeness to apologize for that last one. After calling off security, Dresden had laid a number of files on his desk. All of them young teenagers, from ages thirteen to seventeen, all mysteriously missing. A source, likely a wyldfae, had told the wizard that several Winter Lords and Ladies had abducted these children. Dresden and he did not see eye to eye on most things, but when it came to preventing innocent children from becoming fairy playthings they were allies.

They had taken a little time to prepare for a foray into the Nevernever, John switching out his regular bullets for the new iron rounds he'd had made especially for dealing with naughty fae. He'd also changed his dinner reservations, pushing them back so he wouldn't be late. He'd left a brief voicemail on her phone, Nadia, change of plans, 9pm. It was almost 4pm at that point, surely plenty of time to pay a visit to the Winter Queen and remind her of his authority when it came to mortal Chicago.

The Fae Queen, in all her inhuman perfect beauty, had danced around them for hours, twisting words like bits of thread. The humans were there of their own volition, she and her court had broken no rules. Only bent them to a ninety degree angle. The children were seated on the floor of the great ice cavern where Mab was currently holding court. They all looked strung out and exhausted, several appeared ready to sleep at the drop of a hat. One of the girls was crying, no words came out (likely an enchantment), but John recognized her mouthing the word 'mama'. It is only years of practice and a heavy dose of strong will that allow him to keep his composure. He has a soft spot for children, especially ones in trouble. Sue him.

The proceedings take even longer as Dresden repeats all his questions three times, a minor binding spell. John is impressed. Perhaps with the proper training and guidance the wizard could have had a law career. A short one that would have involved Harry getting tossed out of the court for mouthing off at the judge.

John stays silent for the better part of the proceedings. He's learned that silence can often be more terrifying than any amount of yelling. It seems to be a little effective on the Sidhe, some start to fidget and even squirm a little under his heavy tiger gaze. It probably also has to do with the iron rounds in his gun. He's seen what happens when the Fae are burned with the ferric metal and it isn't pretty.

Eventually Mab agrees to return the children. They've had their fun with them. With a thrice spoken promise, the children will return to their families and never be bothered by the Winter Court again. John wishes Harry would expand the promise to include all Fae, but one can only push the Queen of Air and Darkness so far before getting their faces clawed off.

They exit the Nevernever long after the sun has set. Dresden's friend, Lt. Murphy, is waiting for them when they arrive outside an old warehouse. The tiny blonde and a few of her officers are there to assist with the children. A paramedic is on the way, though none of the children seem to have any physical injuries. More than a few will likely be visiting a therapist soon. John will have their families send him the bills. It is the least he can do since this had happened on his watch.

The Lieutenant eyes him warily and even made a few thinly veiled threats about throwing him behind bars, next time of course. Like Dresden, when it came to fighting for the greater good, she was temporarily willing to act as a reluctant ally. She was a tough little thing that could hold her own. It almost made him sad that he couldn't procure her willing allegiance. Almost. The woman has the ferocity of a German Shepherd, and would likely end up biting him.

Hendricks has the night off to work on his thesis, so it falls to Gard to pick him up. She has a knowing look in her blue eyes. He is beginning to regret the ways his professional and private life tend to overlap at times. Gard may be a near immortal goddess, but she enjoys observing human 'courtship' rituals. Probably so she can use what she's learned on her nights out with Nathan. It doesn't help that his bodyguard/consultant gets along swimmingly with his domestic partner. Apparently Gard likes 'girl talk' now and again. Just because you're a Valkyrie doesn't mean you don't have relationship issues. God help them all if they both ever end up plotting against him and Nathan.

It's almost 3 AM by the time he arrives back at the penthouse. He tries calling, but keeps getting sent to voicemail. Gard suggests a peace offering of sweets, but years of experience have taught him that Nadia would feel more insulted than grateful if he pulled that trick. She'd see it as a bribe to get back into her good graces. Then he would end up exiled to the couch or sleeping in his office for the next week. He would never admit it aloud but, John wasn't quite as young as he was a decade ago, he couldn't sleep on the floor anymore and not feel it in the morning. He needed to make things right to avoid both the emotional and physical ramifications if he didn't.

The light in the living room is still on, she hasn't gone to bed yet. She's seated on the couch, a large number of papers and a laptop set on the coffee table in front of her. Looks like Nathan is not the only one working on a thesis paper tonight.

"You're late, Vanni," John can hear the hurt in her tone, and it makes him feel like an ass. It's rare for them to have a night out. They're both very busy people. Nadia works full time as a nurse at Cook County and is trying to get her masters. John runs the organized crime, an empire in of itself, in addition to a number of legitimate businesses. The less savory bits of his business make it nearly impossible for them to have a 'normal' relationship. They always have to be careful about being seen together in public. If they're seen too often or in certain places, then the jig is up. Then it becomes public knowledge. Not that it would bother either of them for people to see them in a relationship. Nothing would make him happier than to let the world know this beautiful creature is his. His and only his.

But then everyone who has ever had a bone to pick with him shifts their focus from Johnny to Nadia. Business rivals (legit and not), CPD, FBI, and maybe a few supernaturals he has pissed off over the years, all seeing her as a target. And there was no guarantee he could keep her safe if that happened. If she got hurt or, God help him, killed, the blood was on his hands. He would do everything in his power to prevent that. No matter how much it hurt him.

"I know, I'm sorry cara mia." He takes a seat beside her on the couch. She sighs and shuts off her laptop before turning to look at him. She's wearing a pair of worn sweatpants that has a hole on the left knee and a large shirt with the Chicago Cubs logo, one of his. Well, that's an encouraging sign. If she were really angry, she would avoid anything of his like the plague. "I would have called if I could."

"Yea, I know." She fiddles with her glasses, trying to hide the slight redness in her eyes. She must have been crying earlier if she needed to remove her contacts. The glasses are not for fun or style, if she goes without either of them she's blind as a bat. "I figured something involving supes had happened."

"Several fairies decided to play with the meaning of the word consent." Nadia's eyes narrow, he's told her stories about some of the nasty things the Sidhe get up to. She doesn't like the idea of him having much to do with these primal, alien beings that have such little regard for human life. She's afraid of what they'd do to him if given half the chance. "To make it worse, they involved children."

"Christ," she breathes, "are they going to be alright?"

"Physically, yes. I think a number of them will need some counseling in the near future. The Winter Court is not known for gentleness." Then again, children can sometimes be more resilient than adults. He saw that quite a bit when he was growing up on the South Side. Children can survive all sorts of hell if they must. Nadia gives a small chuckle next to him.

"I think you need to add Defender of the Chicago Youth into your job description, love." She leans against him, her head resting against his shoulder. She understands how John feels about attacks made on his city and it's children. It's one of the things she most admires about him. John will fight tooth and nail for his city, for all it can be. In another century, he would have been considered a mighty warrior king. But those types of leaders have little place in the modern world and he must conduct his battles in boardrooms and the occasional backroom. A Baron, a king in his own right.

"Hmm, that would look rather impressive on business card. Perhaps I should have a few of those printed out." The expression on Nathan's face when he saw those would be worth it. Perhaps he should also have one sent to Mab. With an old iron screw attached. The expression on her face might not be quite so funny. "However," He shifts off the couch and stands up, "I believe it is still a certain night." A small bit of playfulness returns to his eyes, Nadia shakes her head at him.

"It's three in the morning, love. You're a few hours late." She crosses her arms, but a matching playfulness finds its way into her voice.

"I believe you once said that it doesn't count if the sun hasn't risen." She pretends to fight him for another minute before going and changing out of her sweats into a pair of dark fitted jeans with sleek black leather boots. She keeps the shirt though. He compromises by removing his tie and undoing the top few buttons of his button down.

They end up in a diner close to the University of Chicago library. Despite college students' notorious nocturnal habits, the place is nearly empty other than a single student typing away on his laptop. They order the type of nasty, greasy waffles and eggs that can only be found in diners close to academic centers. They eat with a surprising amount of relish, leaving not even a crumb behind. Over a second refill of coffee and a shared slice of warm apple pie a la mode, they watch the sun come up.

"Happy anniversary, Vanni." John brings her hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle. A kiss for each year they've spent together.

"Happy anniversary, Nadia."

Dedicated to lovers everywhere.


End file.
